First Date
by scuttlesworth
Summary: Dexter & Rita's first date, as pushed by Deb. Rated M for Deb's language and the fact that this is Dexter. Reviews very welcome.


"Shitfuck, Dexter!" Deb said, staring at me in disgust. "What the fuck is wrong with you, brother?"

I sat stupidly, the sandwich halfway to my mouth. Was this rhetorical, or was some response required? Couldn't be sure. "Um. I don't know?"

"So this slut-ass bimbo just fucks another guy and you what, nod like some fucking bobbleheaded doll and walk away? Seriously, brother? You don't even throw a punch?"

I stare mournfully at my sandwich, then let it slip back to the plate. "Punch? Deb, this isn't prehistoric society. I'm not a caveman. She's a grown adult, if she wants to sleep with someone else - "

Deb shakes her head. I stop, grateful, and grab for the sandwich again. Which means my mouth is full when she continues. "If you didn't care enough about her to punch the guy she's fucking, then fuck. It's a good thing you ditched her, you were never gonna work out. You did ditch her, right?" She stares suspiciously at me. I nod and swallow. "Fucking good. Sometimes I think you're too - *nice*." She says nice like it's a swear word, as though it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. I smile haplessly, harmlessly. Dreary Dexter, the despair of Dear Debra, has managed to mess up his love life again - this time apparently by not being macho enough. Better too pathetic than too pushy, though. One way lies nebbishes and sad head-shakes; the other way lies arrest reports and jail time. Always err on the side of meekness. Harry never said it, but when you have no natural idea where the lines are drawn in a relationship it's best to stay well within the safe zones.

Back to the drawing board. I can wait a couple weeks, then I have to go out and look again. Dating will give me some cover - a few alibis - but sooner or later I'm going to have to go through all this useless misery again. The initial approach, always so difficult to get right. The awkward dating phase. The first kiss, where I have to be involved and interested. The rest of the nasty, embarrassing, demeaning game.

Why isn't there a woman out there who doesn't want all this mess? Someone tidy and contained, someone uninterested in loud clubs and moronic conversations about pre-packaged entertainment?

This would all be so much easier if I were repulsive, but apparently I'm symmetrical and healthy, and that's all that's required for social expectations to stare anxiously at my unattached state. A single man is a threat to the world, Dexter. An attached man is considered safe. I shake my head and finish my sandwich.

I'll get a date. Next week.

The other conversation goes like this.

"Officer Morgan?" The voice is timid, terrified, barely audible. The woman standing there in the waiting room is pretty, but faded and unobtrusive. One side of her face is hidden; her blond hair is pulled down over one eye as though she's used to needing some sort of shelter from the world. Her skinny arms hold her four-year old son, whose eyes are flat and solemn; her eight-year-old daughter stands just behind her skirt, watching warily. Debra Morgan blinks. "Rita? Oh fu-" a panicked glance at the kids "-udge. Right, I forgot. Come on in, ok? We'll sit here. Put him down, your arms must be da…arn near killing you. Um. Your son, um…"

"Cody," Rita supplies with the ghost of a smile.

"Right. Him and Hestor can -"

"Astor." Debra's chagrin is obvious, and the smile in Rita's voice is a little bigger now.

"Shiiiii…eel, um, right, sorry. Cody and Astor can go with Louise here and get some hot chocolate. You guys want that?" Deb smiles hopefully at the kids, who shift closer to their mother. Rita winces as Cody's arms tighten.

She whispers in his ear, voice gentle. Her hand strokes his hair and her eyes are sad. Slowly he unclenches his hands and slides for her lap. Astor looks at Deb with deep suspicion, but takes Cody's hand. They stare back over their shoulders as Louise leads them away.

There's paperwork. Rita's hand shakes as she signs her testimony, but she holds it together. Deb is clumsy and gauche and, with the kids gone, forgets to censor her language. Rita, through watery eyes, laughs at an outburst "motherfucker"; Deb turns red and looks embarrassed. Then it's over and done.

Rita stares at the paperwork, eyes lost, forlorn. Tears trickle down her face. Deb, cop to her core and uncomfortable with all this strange feminine weakness, gently pats Rita's hand. "Um. There, there," she says. Then she shakes her head. "Fuck. Sorry, Rita, I sound like my idiot brother." She hauls a box of tissues out from a desk drawer and hands them over.

Rita, offered an escape from her own inner pain, perks up. "You have a brother?" She sniffles and wipes her nose with the tissue. Gently, so as not to deal herself too much pain. Her nose is healed, but the habit of caution lingers.

"Yeah, Dexter. I swear he's a great guy, but when it comes to knowing what to do with girls he's fucking hopeless." Deb leans back in her chair. "He just broke up with another girlfriend. He's had like ten of them, and they're all nutcases or bi…um…really nasty. They walk all over him like he's a doormat, and he just sits there and nods like an idiot." Deb looks away. "He's a great guy. He's smart, he can be fun, he's always there when I need him. Always comes through. But his love life stinks like day-old dead skunk."

Rita giggles. It's the first time Deb's heard anything cheerful coming from the woman, and it encourages her to go on. "Seriously! He's a good-looking guy, decent shape, right? But I take him out to a club and he just stands there like a dope. He can barely say hi to a woman. He doesn't drink, he doesn't like to dance or go clubbing, he sits on his ass in his lab all day long working on these grisly cases and then he goes and eats a ton of nasty food. I've tried to set him up with women and he flubs it every time."

Rita's eyes are shining with amusement; she has one hand to her once-damaged cheek, the other over her mouth.

"I think it might be his shirts. He wears these godawful shirts. Like you would not believe. Terrible neon things. Makes him look like a fruit stand puked all over his wardrobe." Rita is laughing behind her hand, her eyes crinkled up in unaccustomed mirth.

"I'd love to meet him sometime," she says in her tiny voice when the laughter is gone and only wistfulness remains. And like that, a light goes on over Deb's head.

Deb peers at Rita. Rita looks back nervously. "Oh yeah," Deb says, with an anticipatory grin on her face. "Yeah."

Deb has me pinned in my office. I stare longingly at the door behind her. The downside to having your own private corner off the lab is that, when someone really wants to corner you, there's no escape. Deb has been lurking outside my office all day long, waiting for this moment.

"She needs someone to boost her confidence again," she says. "Her husband was a grade-a fucker. Beat her, the works. She only fought back when he went after the kids."

Black wings under my heart, rustling in annoyance. The mention of a threat to children makes me go chilly and sharp. I bare my teeth, turn it into a not-smile. "He's locked up, right?"

"Fuck yeah. I put him in a real nice cell with some little gang bangers." Debra grins, and for a moment she's as nasty as my own inner heart. Then it's gone and she's back on her bandwagon, pounding the same damn drum she's been at for the past ten minutes. I check the clock. Only four minutes? It feels so much longer.

"She needs this, Dex. She needs a nice, non-threatening guy, someone boring and reliable and sweet."

Me? Non-threatening? Seriously Deb, I know you don't know about my extra-curricular activities, I know I try and act like a nice guy, but by all that's dark and unholy how can you be considering me for this job? I keep my mouth shut. It does not save me. Deb grows irritated. "Shitfuck Dex, I'm not asking you to get married or something. Just go out on a few damn dates with her. And you don't even have to be interesting or anything. Just … be your usual exciting self. She needs some confidence, and you're perfect for that." Her sarcasm would wound me if I felt things like emotional injury. I fake it. She glares, stands and starts to walk away. I am free.

"I told her you'd ask her out to dinner tomorrow night."

I am not free. "What?"

"Don't disappoint me, bro."

"Deb!"

Too late. She's gone. I sink back into my seat. Dizzy Dexter is Dating? But I already have a playmate for tomorrow, Debra. I have a play date with a very, very bad man… and no real alibi. And this Rita, Rita of the badly beaten, Rita of the two kids that Deb has been going on about all month, has low expectations for men. She wants boring. She wants uninterested. She wants…. me.

Someone wants me? For who I am? For my utter lack of emotional drive, for my complete inability to get involved?

I stare at the yellow sticky note Debra has left on my desk. I pick it up, stare at it some more. It does not answer my searching gaze, but when I dial the number, Rita does.

"Um. Hello? This is Dexter Morgan, Debra Morgan's brother…"


End file.
